Saint-Saëns - Henry VIII (Brussels, 2023)

Camille Saint-Saëns - Henry VIII

La Monnaie-De Munt, 2023

Alain Altinoglu, Olivier Py, Lionel Lhote, Marie-Adeline Henry, Nora Gubisch, Ed Lyon, Vincent Le Texier, Enguerrand de Hys, Werner van Mechelen, Jérôme Varnier, Claire Antoine, Alexander Marev, Carlos Martinez, Alexander Marev, Alessia Thais Beradi, Annelies Kerstens, Lieve Jacobs, Manon Poskin, Alain-Pierre Wingelinckx, Luis Aguilar, Byoungjin Lee, René Laryea

OperaVision - May 2023

There is no denying the lyrical beauty of the music of Camille Saint-Saëns and consequently it's always a joy to discover some of his lesser known operas, but I have to admit that I struggle to find relevance in his subjects or indeed find much in the way of true feeling or connection with the human condition in his treatments. To be fair, while Samson and Dalila remains an impressive and powerful work still worthy of continued revival, opportunities to actually see (rather than just hear recordings) of his other operas are still few and far between. Director Olivier Py, often a reliable and interesting director at La Monnaie in Brussels, certainly gives Henry VIII his best shot, but there is still a feeling that there is something vital lacking that would make a case for the work and other Saint-Saëns operas meriting a return to the main repertoire.

The challenges of adapting any period of the reign and activities of Henry VIII are you would imagine considerable. Even just choosing which of the wives as the focus for an opera, but the fate of Anne Boleyn would certainly have to be considered as a starting point, such is the impact that this marriage would have on subsequent English history. Donizetti wasn't too concerned with historical fact when he set to work on his series of operas about the English monarchs, but still managed to make them hugely entertaining, not least in his own version of the Anne Boleyn story. Whichever way you approach it, it's going to be a long one and so full of operatic incident and drama as to be almost irresistible.

Saint-Saens' approach in Henry VIII, while it inevitably is still operatically stylised, places more focus on Catherine's condition as a spurned wife, the significance of the dissolution of that marriage and the schism it caused with the church as the beginning of a reign of terror. Rather than one thing leading to another, there is instead a sense of a strange but compelling juxtaposition of love and terror that intentionally sit rather uncomfortably together. This is exemplified by the finale of Act I, where the king declares his love for the handmaid he has brought over from France at the same time as the execution of Buckingham is taking place outside. Anne Boleyn is not unexpectedly horrified at the strange (to say the least) by appetites of the English king, fearing for the Spanish ambassador Gomez who has already declared his love for Anne.

That certainly raises the stakes, but as a grand opéra it still has certain conventions that must be adhered to which can make it something of an acquired taste by today's standards. At the very least it does feel like the drama could have been tightened up a little more. Act II in particular feels a little bit overdone with Henry pressing his declarations of love still further on Anne while Gomez looks on helplessly. On the other hand, the menace is still there and the intriguing juxtaposition of declarations of love bearing more than a hint of danger that Anne is unwittingly flirting with since we know what lies ahead (or indeed a head) makes this something worth exploring. And indeed, this develops into a just as charged confrontation between the Queen Catherine and the pretender for her position, any confrontation between the two women always a sure situation for sparks to fly.

Olivier Py as ever is an interesting choice of director for the staging of this kind of rare opera at La Monnaie. Saint-Saëns in grand opéra mode presents a rich palette of dramatic scenes, musical set pieces, rousing choruses and ballet music, which Py dutifully addresses in his own way with his regular set designer Pierre-André Weitz. The stage is very dark and menacing, largely black and white with bold colours set against it, Anne notably in blood red. There is a blend of historical Tudor costume and 19th century period dress, since Py feels the work has more to do with the divisions of church and state in the French Third Republic of Saint-Saëns time than it does about English 16th century history. He makes good use of the dancers in the ballet sequences (and outside of them also), as well as his tableau arrangements (as in his Dialogues des Carmélites) to try to touch on other spiritual elements, bringing stylisations to the swirling undercurrents of violence and death as they are represented in the music, which wouldn't bear too much realism.

As much as I love Saint-Saëns and the French Romantic composers of this era, his music is fairly nondescript for the most part, reminding me Ambroise Thomas. Unmemorable maybe, even if conductor Alain Altinoglu praises the character and colouration of his writing, and a little bit academic, not really allowing you to feel any real emotional connection. But as far as the demands of the opera are concerned, the composer (and conductor) fulfil the remit, building the tension up to a high-pitched finale at the end of each of the four acts, each of the principals having several strong expressive arias. There is certainly an impact in the key scenes, such as Henry proclaiming himself head of the church in England to huge choral acclaim. Py serves such scenes well, not neglecting the ballet scenes either but making good use of this music to underline and contribute to the overall tone of the work in this production, as when for example he extends the final quartet with a silent dancer and Jane Seymour to further add to the sense of menace.

Grand opéra of this kind is a challenge but also a treat when you have good singers to deliver it. Soprano Marie-Adeline Henry takes the honours here with a superb, impressively sung Catherine of Aragon. In many ways she is the heart of the tragedy and main vehicle that establishes the tone of the opera, so it's vital that it is in good hands. Mezzo-soprano Nora Gubisch is also good as her 'lesser-equal', and Ed Lyon is still in fine voice as Don Gomez. Henry VIII is such a larger-than-life figure that it can be a challenge to show nuance or character, but there is indeed some human qualities invoked by Saint-Saëns's music and Lionel Lhote's performance. Definitely a cast worthy of the work and they do it justice. Py also treats Saint-Saëns' Henry VIII respectfully or at least appropriately, with fewer of his usual mannerisms, the extravagance of the stunning set designs commensurate with the scale and scope of the work. The spectacle, colour, movement and superb stage management brings out the contrasts, dynamic and lyricism in an opera than might not be great, but has certainly much to admire in it.

Links: La Monnaie-De Munt, OperaVision

Chabrier - L'Etoile (De Nederlandse, 2014 - Webcast)

Emmanuel Chabrier - L'Etoile

De Nationale, Amsterdam, 2014

Patrick Fournillier, Laurent Pelly, Stéphanie d’Oustrac, Christophe Mortagne, Hélène Guilmette, Jérôme Varnier, Elliot Madore, Julie Boulianne, François Piolino, François Soons, Harry Teeuwen, Jeroen van Glabbeek, Richard Prada

Culturebox - 16 October 2014

Aside from Offenbach, we don't often get the opportunity to see much French comic operetta outside of France. In Paris, the Opéra Comique do outstanding work in keeping this distinctive lyric tradition alive and presented in its best light. And, it might be a bit of an obvious remark to make but it's true - Chabrier's L'Etoile is one of the brightest stars of the repertoire that is rarely performed nowadays. It's surprising then to see it performed and done so well in this recent production at DNO in Amsterdam, but there's a well-appointed French production team in place here with Patrick Fournillier conducting and Laurent Pelly directing, that does justice to the musical and comic qualities of the opera.

What makes Chabrier's L'Etoile great are the same things that make any opéra-comique or opéra bouffe great. It's funny and it has great tunes. It does however need a good comic actors/singers and direction that plays to these advantages, and that's all perfectly in place here with Stéphanie d’Oustrac leading the cast and Laurent Pelly bringing his colourful and often absurd sense of style and fun to the proceedings. Optionally, a great comic opera can have a satirical leaning, or it can have one worked into it by the director, but I don't detect any particularly subtle social commentary in L'Etoile or much opportunity for including one. The plot, as silly as it is, is however a lot of fun and moves along well, providing plenty of opportunity for comic situations, romance and lovely music.

We're in the kingdom of King Ouf I. He's a ruler who likes to keep his people entertained. A few fireworks on special occasions and the odd impalement - what better way to keep the populace happy and maintain order? Traditionally, it's a troublesome rebel who is executed on these occasions, but such is the terror among the general public that even in his best disguise, setting traps and making provocations, Ouf can't find a single unruly citizen. But the king has another problem. According to the constitution, the ruler must announce his successor by his 40th birthday, and King Ouf is 39. Ouf depends on the court astrologer Siroco to help guide him though this dilemma through observation of the stars.

Princess Laoula has however just arrived incognito from a neighbouring kingdom to sound out the possibility of a marriage alliance, but on their way they meet Lazuli, a travelling salesman who falls in love with the Princess. Rebuffed by her minder, the ambassador Hérisson de Porc-Épic, Lazuli strikes out at the next person he meets, who just happens to be King Ouf. Ouf is livid and delighted that he now has a legitimate victim to execute. Siroco however warns the king that the stars indicate that his and Lazuli's destinies are connected, and that the king's death will follow within 24 hours of Lazuli's. Lazuli is therefore treated like a Prince at the palace, until the Mataquin royal delegation arrives and Lazuli's elopement with the Princess throws everything into turmoil.

As inconsequential as the plot might seem - despite the contrivances, it's not even particularly involved - Chabrier's music for L'Etoile is beautiful, melodic and sophisticated. In contrast to much comic operetta and even Offenbach's straightforward arrangements, Chabrier's music is much more operatic and fitted to the mood as well as the dramatic context. It's also wonderfully paced, the spoken dialogue sections kept to a minimum, moving rapidly from one situation with a beautiful aria to another. Much of the work revolves around solo singing in this respect, but there are also some duets - appropriately in those love scenes, of course - and some wonderful chorus work, all of which enlivens the work with great variety.

It's this colour and variety that is reflected in Laurent Pelly's direction and in the set designs by Chantal Thomas. The setting of the opera is abstract enough that it can work in any time period, but Pelly resists modernising what is an old-fashioned work too much and keeps it playful. The idea that we are in a police-state is indicated in Act I not with spy cameras but with loudspeakers on numerous poles, with fearful citizens scurrying around in trenchcoats. Later we see secret police with hound heads, and Ouf himself is depicted as a pantomime Teutonic dictator in oversize shorts. Stylised old-fashioned vehicles are used for Lazuli's mobile shop and for the Mataquin entourage, and the devices for impalement and astrological observation are clockwork cog, wheel and pulley operated. Even the pink puffball dresses of the maids of honour fit in perfectly with the cartoon look and feel of the work.

Pelly's direction of the cast also contributes greatly to the success of the production. The acting is comically exaggerated, but not overly so, letting the delivery of the libretto carry the humour. Stéphanie d’Oustrac is particularly good here in her inhabiting the trouser-role of Lazuli. I'm more used to seeing the mezzo-soprano in rather more glamorous roles and in Baroque opera, but her opéra bouffe work is just great. It's a tricky role to sing, and the physical acting required doesn't make it any easier, but that lovely rich voice is full of colour and character. Christophe Mortagne is an energetic Ouf, perfectly pitched in the comic acting with a lovely lyrical tenor voice. Hélène Guilmette's Laoula is also well sung. Patrick Fournillier and the Residentie Orkest fairly romp through Chabrier's delightful score, and the De Nederlandse chorus are as impressive as ever.

Links: Culturebox, Dutch National Opera

Berlioz - Béatrice et Bénédict

Hector Berlioz - Béatrice et Bénédict

L'Opéra Comique, Paris, 2010

Emmanuel Krivine, Dan Jemmett, Christine Rice, Allan Clayton, Ailish Tynan, Élodie Méchain, Edwin Crossley-Mercer, Jérôme Varnier, Michel Trempont, Giovanni Calò, David Lefort, Bob Goody

France TV, Culturebox - Internet streaming

The Opéra Comique's 2010 production of Béatrice et Bénédict takes a somewhat distanced theatrical approach to Berlioz's version of Shakespeare's comedy 'Much Ado About Nothing', setting it as a puppet show come to life. The distancing technique is a method that Shakespeare would himself use on occasions through an Induction opening that indicates that the work in question is a play-within-a-play (in 'The Taming of the Shrew' for example), using it as a means perhaps to have a little more freedom that takes it away from naturalistic drama. There isn't such a device used in 'Much Ado About Nothing', even though some of the narrative twists and comic drama do require some suspension of disbelief, so the puppet show does at least provide a certain justification for this.

Since Berlioz's opera jettisons much of the rather more wild twists of Shakespeare's play in favour of the romantic comedy between Beatrice and Benedick (and it must be said, much of the comedy goes too), the device has other uses and benefits here. On a simple formal level, the production looks good with a strong visual hook and two huge puppet heads looming over the stage. Since puppet productions have a fairly specific period character, this allows the work to be put on in a more traditional setting. You could also consider that the two principal characters of the opera are indeed treated somewhat like puppets by the manoeuvring of their friends in their efforts to get this unlikely couple to somewhat improbably put their hatred for each other aside and recognise that they are actually in love with each other.

The best thing about the Opéra Comique's production however is the introduction of a "puppet master" who recites lines from the original play in English and thereby brings a little bit of the magical poetry of Shakespeare back into a drama that loses much of its character in French translation and more in its adaptation to opera. This also serves to bring some human feeling back into the actual production, since unfortunately, as you might expect, having the characters walk around and make jerky movements as if they are on strings, does tend to restrict the dramatic action and leave it rather static and... well, wooden. Dan Jemmet also however finds some good ways to use the added character of choir master Somarone to bring back some of the Shakespearean humour that is lacking in Berlioz's adaptation, and takes the humour out to the audience in a way that is typical of the Opéra Comique, as well as fully in the spirit of the work.

The spirit of the work is however undoubtedly more that of Berlioz than Shakespeare. The composer makes great use of the chorus, he even manages to get a ballet in there at the start to celebrate Don Pedro's victory, the drama fairly zipping along with some fine melodies and, in the case of Beatrice and Ursula's duet 'Nuit paisable et sereine', at least one truly great piece. As an opera, Béatrice et Bénédict lacks the tragicomic elements of Hero's betrayal and her 'death' of heartbreak at the accusations of her fiancé Claudio, and the all-out comic hilarity of Dogberry and his constables' investigation is missed, but Berlioz has a good feel for the sensibilities of the romantic-comedy storyline and rightly focuses on that alone. Those characteristics are brought out marvellously here in a fine account of the work as conducted by Emmanuel Krivine.

The singing is also excellent throughout. It's surprising in a work that has quite a few passages of spoken French dialogue that three of the four principal roles are assigned to native English-speaking performers. Perhaps the intention was to give more value to the English character of the Shakespeare work (even though it is actually set in Messina) than to the French, but generally the diction in the spoken sections was reasonably good. In terms of singing, it could hardly be faulted. Both Christine Rice and Allan Clayton as Béatrice and Bénédict are simply perfect in this register, Rice in particular richly toned and lyrical, but both brought the necessary character to the work. Ailish Tynan's Héro and Élodie Méchain's Ursule were also fine, although they both seemed to find the puppet concept somewhat restricting.